


Dis-moi Rien Qu'au Revoir

by Sunfreckle



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: (By my darling sister obviously), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Barricade Day, Betaed, Canon Era, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, I cannot save them all, I have done myself a sad, Off screen canon character death will happen, Some People Live, Trans Character, Trans!Montparnasse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 04:33:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11328666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunfreckle/pseuds/Sunfreckle
Summary: Between the 4th and the 5th of June Montparnasse makes two very important decision, both concerning Éponine, one concerning life and death.





	1. The 4th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meidiama, Montparnassee and my sister Badassindistress are all equally to blame for this.

_June 4, 1832_

 

“ ’Ponine?”

Montparnasse looked into the girl’s pale face, but he saw no immediate signs of harm. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” she said quietly and Montparnasse knew that he wouldn’t be able to tell if she was lying. He had lived this life two years longer than her, but her tongue was as used to forming lies as his.

“I just wanted to ask you something.”

He nodded and stepped aside, letting her into the room. It was a derelict place and the faded walls and tattered furniture looked even bleaker with Montparnasse’s belonging to contrast them with. Velvet, silk and polished leather did not belong here. But then again, neither should they have belonged to Montparnasse.

“What do you need?” he asked, after carefully closing the door behind Éponine.

She looked at him with an expression he has not seen before. It unnerved him. “Help me to pass for a boy?” she said.

“To what purpose?” he asked, a frown overtaking his handsome face.

There is a short silence. “Freedom,” she replied finally. “I wish to go where people would not have me go.”

Those people Montparnasse presumed to be her father. “Very well,” he sighed and he gestured for her to sit down. “But ‘Ponine,” he said, catching her by the arm as she walked past. “You _will_ be careful? Paris is uneasy as of late.”

She nodded her acquiescence and Montparnasse released her. While she sat down he searched through his clothes.

“You are of slighter build than me,” he observed. “But my old corset might still fit you.”

Éponine looked up uncertainly. “No, do not give me your corset,” she said. “I need not be fine like you. I must only pass for a boy, not a gentleman.”

Montparnasse turned around, frowning more deeply now than before. “I can show you how to bind your chest with strips of rags,” he says. “But the corset will be more comfortable. You will be able to wear it longer without hurting. I can spare this one, I do not wear it anymore.” The one he was wearing himself was the only one that fit him properly now. The first one had been of his own design, this one had been improved by the seamstress that made it.

Once again Éponine shook her head.

Montparnasse sighed and found a knife and an old piece of cloth that was not so worn through as to lose its strength. He cut it into strips and showed his friend how to wrap it about her chest to hide her woman’s figure. “Do not wear this long, ‘Ponine,” he said pressingly. “No matter how well you do it, it will cut into your skin at length. And _because_ you do it well, it will bruise your insides.” After this he did not say much of anything and gave his instructions by gesture only. All this reminded him of former days and his memories were not pleasant.

“Thank you,” Éponine said, standing in front of the age-stained looking glass leaning against the otherwise bare wall. She turned her body and looked at herself.

“Here,” Montparnasse said, holding up a pair of patched, ribbed velvet trousers and an old blouse. “If you insist on being poorly dressed.”

A ghost of a smile passed across Éponine’s thin face. “It does not matter what I wear,” she said, taking the clothes. “As long as no one knows me.”

“I would know you regardless,” Montparnasse said.

Another pale smile.

With an appraising look Montparnasse watched as Éponine took on her new appearance. Her dark hair twisted up and hidden under a cap. She moved in front of the mirror again and squared her shoulders uncomfortably. Montparnasse hummed and instructed: “Take a wider stance, but only slightly.”

She did so and then turned around to look at him. Her seventeen year old face looked even younger on a boy.

“You look like an artisan’s apprentice,” he said.

“Will I pass, then?” she asked.

Even though she did not sound anxious, Montparnasse takes up a reassuring tone. “You will,” he said, walking around her. In an even lighter tone he added: “You are badly dressed, but well disguised.”

“Thank you Parnasse,” she said, smiling at him from under the cap. “You were always a friend to me.”

Montparnasse did not know how to respond to this, so he took her hand and pressed a kiss on it, with an elegance that was suited to his style of dress more than to hers. This time the smile on her face was wider and for a moment her brown eyes were warm.

“Will you go now?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, inclining her head. “I must find someone.”

“Very well,” Montparnasse nodded. “Good luck then, young man.”

With a nod Éponine moved to the door, but she did not smile this time. “Adieu, Parnasse,” she muttered.

He gave her a hesitant look. “Au revoir, ‘Ponine,” he said.

She gave another inclination of the head and with a single quick movement she opened the door and was out of the room.

Montparnasse listened for her footsteps on the old stairs, but he heard none. His face was as much marked by uneasiness as by affection at that moment. Éponine was as quick as she was silent, but she was far too young for the look he had seen in her eyes. He shook his head and drove his thoughts back into the dark. It was not his concern and certainly not his business. Éponine would do as Éponine saw fit.


	2. The 5th

_June 5, 1832_

 

Montparnasse had expected to see Éponine back by the end of another night, but she had not come. He asked around, but no one had seen her. Meanwhile the streets were full of unrest. The air was full of something intangible yet vicious. Like gunpowder about to ignite. Numerous feet were treading the streets of Paris in a thumping rhythm that made Montparnasse wish to be elsewhere. He grew weary of searching, but the sounds and smells made the anxious hum in his chest grow louder, until it was deafening to him.

He stepped aside into a quiet spot shrouded in shadow to attempt and collect his thoughts.

“Monsieur Montparnasse…” a voice breathed behind him.

Even in his temporary shock Montparnasse made no attempt to turn around, but merely bowed his head and hissed: “Claquesous, what brings you out here at this hour?”

A figure moved beside him in the shadows, leaning against the wall. “There’ll be a riot,” Claquesous spoke. “And where there’s a riot there will be looting. A man might get into any house he fancies, if he walks in with rabble that thinks itself righteous.”

Montparnasse shook his head. “You are mad,” he muttered. “You will get yourself killed.”

Claquesous sniffed contemptuously. “Why should I die, with so many foolish students eager to die.”

A chill ran through Montparnasse and struck him in the centre of his heart, that he would have hoped impervious to cold by now. “Students,” he breathes. “Students of law?”

“Students of all subjects noble and futile,” Claquesous said indifferently. “What does it matter?”

Abruptly Montparnasse turned round. Claquesous drew back, but his young associate did not look at his face, he merely stared into his eyes. His own green eyes were hardened with something very much like fear. “Éponine is out here,” he said urgently.

“And what of it?” Claquesous demanded, drawing back some more.

“Do you know names?” Montparnasse asked sharply. “Of the students?”

Claquesous shook his head.

“If there is among them one by the name of Marius,” Montparnasse said hoarsely. “Éponine will follow him.”

“Aye? And will you prevent her?” Claquesous laughed. “Does the pretty Parnasse feel slighted?”

Montparnasse grimaced. “What if she does not come back.” His voice was sharp, but there was bluntness at the edge of it.

“Thénardier’s brats can hold their own,” Claquesous shrugged.

“She might not care enough to.”

“That’s on her.”

“Claquesous-”

“Why go running after-”

“ _Claquesous_.”

The other shut his mouth.

Montparnasse did not plead, because he never pleads. “Help me find her.” It is not an order, but neither it is a question.

Claquesous stared at him, his eyes the only lit up part of his features. Perhaps he was considering the last time Montparnasse saved his life in the dark of night, perhaps he was remembering the child he once found sleeping in a graveyard. “Fine,” he grunts.

“She is dressed as a boy,” Montparnasse said, already looking round again. “In ribbed velvet, a faded blouse and a cap.”

Claquesous grumbled something behind him.

“Meet me back here in an hour, this crowd is thickening too fast.”

Without another word the two men each went into a different direction, Montparnasse choosing right and Claquesous left. Every cap drew Montparnasse’s notice, but his quick eye never lingered. Éponine was not among the crowd. Only soon it would no longer be a crowd. The people were forming a mob now. Their feet seemed to be marching in unison. Montparnasse moved through the mass of bodies with nimble movements. Further and further he pressed on, until the streets were nearly too crowded to walk. Ahead he saw three young men walking side by side, the middle one wearing his blonde locks like a halo. Montparnasse’s eye was drawn away and for a moment he saw the familiar edge of a pale face.

Montparnasse did not call out, fore Éponine moved as one that does not wish to be discovered. Silently he moved as fast as he was allowed to, his eyes always fixed on the spot where he saw Éponine last. One moment he saw her, the next he lost her, only to find her again. The dandy was hunting the artisan, and the latter did not know it.

With a sigh of relief that was felt not on his lips, but doubly so in his chest, Montparnasse’s hand closed around Éponine’s wrist and he dragged her aside.

She gasped, but prepared to fight instead of screaming.

“It is me, hold your tongue,” Montparnasse hissed.

“Let me go,” Éponine demanded.

“No,” he refused. “I am taking you back.”

“Back where?” She struggled.

“Away from here.” He did not let go, he was dragging her away from the crowd.

With a sudden violence she brought her heel down onto his foot, but her feet were bare and his boots were sturdy.

“Fight me if you wish I will not leave  you behind,” Montparnasse growled.

Fury flared on Éponine’s face. “You-”

“I will not allow you to die for a man, Éponine!” The words escaped his lips before his mind had thought to form them and they were ferocious.

Tears sprang from the brown eyes that were fixed on him in anger only a second before. The tight lines of grief on Éponine’s young face broke, and she cried. Silently Montparnasse drew a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it her, never letting go of her arm with his other hand. He led her away and she followed, washing her face with silent tears.

When they reached the alley where Montparnasse had encountered Claquesous she was no longer crying. Her face was still, her eyes directed towards the ground. Standing hidden in the shadows, Montparnasse turned her towards him and looked into her face.

“I am sorry,” he said and he meant nearly half of it.

She did not answer, for before she could there was the sound of a scuffle and a masked man appeared dragging a child.

“ _Walk_ , or I shall carry you again,” Claquesous threatened.

“Who have you there?” Montparnasse spoke up, but then the boy spat angrily:

“Did you not send him? If you don’t know me, let me be off!” In looking past Claquesous, however, he spied his sister. “Éponine?” he pronounced uncertainly.

Éponine seemed close to crying again and lowered herself towards him, wrapping her arms around his narrow shoulders.

“Who dressed you?” Gavroche asked, words muffled in her shoulder. “Are you playing charades?”

“I see you found the brother instead of the sister,” Montparnasse remarked.

“One child’s as good as another,” Claquesous grumbled, and then after a gruff silence: “He was going the same way.”

Montparnasse glanced at Éponine, who was muttering to Gavroche. The boy held onto her with a helpless, somewhat bewildered look on his face. Montparnasse did not think either of them would try to run again.

“I’ll bring them back and feed them,” he muttered. He looked at Claquesous. “Are you to go looting after all?”

“No,” Claquesous groused. “I have been pushed about enough.”

Montparnasse grinned faintly. “Come with us then.”

The other shook his head. “Not today,” and with that he disappeared, seemingly without even turning away or moving his feet.

Meanwhile Éponine got to her feet. She still avoided Montparnasse’s eyes, but cleared her throat and said: “What now?”

Gavroche was looking over his shoulder at the people still filling the street, but Éponine was holding onto his hand and he did not move.

Montparnasse moved around them, hiding the street from his view. “Come,” he said and with a gentle hand on both their shoulders he led Éponine and Gavroche away, to the place he called home for the moment.

Away from the gunpowder air and the marching feet. Away from the proudly shouting voices. Away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear, that was still sad, wasn’t it? 
> 
> *sigh* 
> 
> Tonight I saved the poor and those rich in ideals must fend for themselves.


End file.
